Early this afternoon, a friend of mine sent this message to our group chat:
There are three months left in this decade. I think you should just go for it.
We were soon reminded that it’s October 8, and that in less than two months, another decade will come to an end.
Ten years. Contained yet scattered in these past ten years were milestones that have changed my life forever. Two graduations. Organizations. Jesus. Two different career paths. Writing. Travels. Campus ministry. Moving out. Yet between each milestone, like messy shirts stacked one after the other, were breakthroughs, heartaches, significant people, and lots and lots of grace.
The thought of a new decade brought me a sense of excitement and expectancy. But as my mind drifted to the many plans and questions I had for the coming one, I remembered these words of Jesus—
Come to me.
It was a reminder about the posture of my heart in relation to the passing of time. The succeeding years would contain the same elements all over again—breakthroughs, heartaches, significant people, and grace. But in all things, and at all times, I will always have Him to come to. To run to. To cry to and celebrate with.
Right now feels like that climactic scene in the movies—suspense in the air, tension brewing inside, a pregnant silence looming over what’s to come.
But in the same breath, there I find a sea of peace flowing deep inside of me, soothing the worries and calming the fears that pop up every now and then. There’s a rhythm to that peace. One that begins every time I just come.
And after I’ve come and gone back into the daily grind, I may not have the answers to my million-dollar questions. I may not have all the things I wish I could afford or saw in a friend’s feed. I may not have gotten exactly what I wanted or planned for. Heck, I may not have even figured out what to do in these next ten years of my life—but I will still, always, have Him.